“Mum, you’ve got more of a social life than me!” I was looking at her calendar hanging in the kitchen, the bottom of it moving ever so slightly in the draft coming through the windows.
“What, dear?” she asked absently as she disappeared into the larder. Tyson waited patiently outside, knowing that a treat was likely to come his way.
“How are there possibly enough hours in the day to get all this done?” I asked, as I surveyed the color-coded event listings. “What does this all even mean?”
“Well, it’s quite simple really,” she said, pretending to sound put-out. “Blue is for the church, orange is for friends, and pink is for me.”
“How does that help?” I asked, unable to understand her system.
“It just means I can prioritize at a glance,” she said. “So, if a blue event comes in and there’s already a pink event scheduled at the same time, I know that I can move it to accommodate the blue event.”
She really is that selfless, but I still felt the need to double check. “So, if there was a blue event and a really important pink event came in, what would you do?”
“I can’t think of an important enough pink event that would take precedent,” she said, leaving me in no doubt.
I shivered and pulled my coat around me as I felt the draft again, and was unable to stop myself picking at the flaking paint on the wall.
“Mum,” I said carefully, “I think the house is in need of some work.”
She stopped stock-still, her hand in midair, holding a teaspoon of sugar. “Why do you say that?”
I didn’t think I’d need to explain the obvious but attempted it anyway. “It’s too cold in here. Look—the curtains are moving. And we ought to get those damp areas looked at—they can’t be good for your chest.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my chest,” she said indignantly.
“No, but there will be if that wall stays like it is.”
“It’ll cost too much,” she said.
“But it will be worth it,” I said, putting an arm on her shoulder. “It’s not as if you’re doing anything else with the money. It’s just sitting there.”
“Well, that’s where I like it,” she said, bristling, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What are you saving your money for?” I asked, suddenly serious.
“For a rainy day,” she said, moving away from me to put a pan of sweet-smelling berries on the Aga. “And for whatever you may need in the future, when I’m no longer here.”
“But I don’t want you to provide for me, I want you to spend your money on you. On making sure you’re fit and healthy, safe and warm … I want you to enjoy living here.”
“I do enjoy living here,” she said, her voice wobbling ever so slightly. “Of course, it’s not the same house that it once was, when you and your father were here, but…”
“Do you want to stay here?” I asked, knowing that if I looked up, she’d be staring at me, horrified that I even needed to ask.
“Of course,” she exclaimed.
“But what about buying something smaller, something more manageable?” I asked.
“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “The only way I’ll be leaving this place is in a wooden box.”
“Okay, so if that’s the case, then perhaps we could get some work done, not only to make it more comfortable for you, but to make it look really lovely again,” I said, overenthusiastically. “We could get all the walls watertight and paint them in bright colors. Maybe even take one or two of them out. Imagine this as a great big space with an island and a new oven.”
“Oh, I’ll not be getting rid of my Aga,” she said, defensively. “And you can’t take that wall out, because of the wine cellar behind.”
I peered around the door to the windowless store room at the end of the corridor, its bare brick walls housing indistinguishable bottles.
“What have you got in there?” I asked, walking toward it. Mum followed me, both of us ducking our heads to clear the low joist.
“That stuff hasn’t been touched since your dad … I don’t know why I keep it really, it must be well past its best.” She attempted to laugh, but I could feel her pain.
“Oh my goodness, Mum, I can’t even read what these are, there’s so much dust on them.” A cough caught in my throat and I battled to stop my eyes from watering as I picked up a bottle at random.
“Well, this one is a cognac,” she said, taking it from me and wiping it with the tea towel in her hand. “Your dad used to love his cognac. We’d have all his suppliers over for a dinner party, and they’d all know to bring a bottle of this or a fine whiskey. You would have been too young to remember, but they were very glamorous affairs.”
I vividly recalled sitting at the top of the grand staircase, peering through the banisters at the women in their furs arriving with well-turned-out men who seemed far older than them. Even then I could see the divide in their relationships; the bonhomie between the men, who would disappear into the drawing room, and the wives who seemed happy to be left to make small talk in the entrance hall. Only my mum would look wistfully after her husband, wishing she was with him instead.
“We might be able to do something with these,” I said, pulling out another bottle that had a 1966 seal.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“They could be worth something,” I said. “I know someone who might be able to sell them. Only if you’d want to of course.”
“Who would want this old stuff?” she asked.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Well, if you think it’d be worth doing…” she said. “More importantly, who’s this friend?” She looked at me with a naughty glint in her eyes and I felt my cheeks flush. “Oh goodness, I’ve not seen you go like that in a long time.”
I bowed my head. “It’s nothing,” I said, fooling no one, especially my mother. “He’s just a friend.”
“Well, feel free to invite him round,” she said. “See if anything takes his fancy.”
I smiled and followed her back into the kitchen.
“Do you want a piece?” she asked, as she took a lemon drizzle cake out of the oven and set it down on a cooling rack.
“I’ll take a slice with me if that’s okay. I don’t want to ruin my appetite before Maria’s barbecue.”
I didn’t tell her that Thomas was coming with me to said barbecue and that I felt sick to the pit of my stomach at the thought of him meeting my friends. And indeed them meeting him. I really wanted it to go well.
I knew something was wrong the minute I opened the door. While I was dressed up as if I was going to the Queen’s garden party at Buckingham Palace, Thomas was wearing a pair of jeans and a worried expression.
“You okay?” I asked, concerned.
“I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to bail out of the barbecue.”
“What? Why?” I said, fighting the disappointment that was slowly working its way around my body.
He looked at his feet. “It’s mum.”
“Oh God, is she okay?” I asked, ushering him into the hall and closing the door.
“She didn’t have a very good night, and is very disorientated and confused today.” He looked at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, I just feel I need to be there.”
“Of course,” I said, rubbing his back, though what good that ever does I don’t know. “Of course. You should go.”
“I’m really sorry to let you down,” he said. “I was looking forward to meeting your friends.”
“It doesn’t matter—we can do it another time.”
“Will you still go?”
I was taken aback by the question. It hadn’t occurred to me not to. Should it have?
“Well, yes,” I said.
“Ah, okay, it’s just that I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.” He looked down at his feet, shuffling from one to the other.
“Go with you?” I said, in surprise. “What, now?”
“This is going to sound really weird, but I don’t know how long she’s got left, and as different as she is to the person I knew as my mum, I’d still really like you to meet her, before … well, you know…”
I felt like I’d had the wind taken out of my sails as the magnitude of what he was saying sunk in. In the space of just a few minutes, I’d gone through a whole plethora of emotions from excitement to selfish disappointment, and concern to utter surprise. I had no idea which of those my mouth would choose to convey.
“I … I … Well, of course, I’d love to,” I faltered. “If you think it’ll be okay.”
His eyes seemed to light up as he nodded.
“I wouldn’t want to cause her any more anxiety though.”
“It’ll be fine,” he said, through the tiniest of smiles. “You’ll brighten up her day.”